I received my lottery results for the London Marathon this week. The memo line said simply "Are You In," which reminded me of an old joke about sex but also got my heart beating fast. It sounded so promising. As I opened the message I truly believed I had beaten the odds and scored a coveted bib for the 2027 race.
Got back from Poland on Tuesday. The flight was almost twelve hours and my lie-flat seat wouldn't recline but I made my best of the time by re-reading The Norwegian Method. It's a science-based approach to training distance runners. If you read my Substack yesterday, you'll know how much I cherish data-driven training. This fact surprises me more than anyone I know because I'm normally an impulsive make-it-up-as-you-go individual.
I cannot see the Baltic Sea through the French doors opened up onto my hotel balcony. It is only one hundred yards to my left but there is a small forest between here and the broad sandy beach. I'm near Sopow, the leafy suburb next to industrial and charming Gdansk in northern Poland, where shipbuilding cranes silhouette the horizon like enormous metal storks. There is also a running path between the Hotel Lival and the forest and then the Baltic. It is leafy and well used by walkers and parents pushing strollers, and is most of all, rather lovely….
Cleaned the condo last night. Woke up at 5, cold shower (that icy water comes straight off the mountain), took out the trash, Stellar Brew for coffee and a blueberry muffin, then down 395 as the sun limned the White Mountains. I took a picture.
I had the road to myself. Resisted the urge to go full gas, holding 65 miles an hour all the way down the mountain to Bishop. Kept the window rolled down to smell the crisp air. Some guy came out of nowhere to pass me. I just let him go.
I got on the subject of coaches wives with my good friend Sean Zeitler this morning. Coaching is such an all-consuming passion that not only do we spend countless hours obsessing about the athletic performances of other people's children, we bring it home. It becomes dinner table conversation, morning coffee conversation, and one of those narratives that always lingers in our subconscious waiting to launch into a discussion.
Greeting from Copenhagen, home to tall men and beautiful women. Callie and I just ran into my good friend (and four-minute miler) Joe Fabris in the train station. Sheer coincidence. Travel and its adventures sometimes yield random moments of wonder like that. Pretty amazing.
I'm researching and writing my way through Europe….
Taking Midway comes out tomorrow. I almost forgot. I mean, not really. I get paid on publication, which makes it worth remembering. It's getting great reviews. Also nice. But almost a year has passed since I finished. That's the nature of this game. You write a book. Make it the best you can. Then wait and wait and wait until it goes into stores.
That's not why May 20 crept up on me…
